Denouement
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: A tag for 6x22 'Blue Bird.' We have to wait 8 months to find out what happens after the TSA office, so I just invented part of the tale for now. Something lasts awhile need a big glass of iced tea along the way and need a cigarette for afters. (JOKE) 1-shot, AU. Warning: Adult sexual situations. Exit now if you don't like that. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.


Patrick seemed to float over the table. It was sweet of him, so careful not to overwhelm her. It wasn't necessary. Overwhelmed was over. Now there was only affirmation and want. But it let her look into his eyes for what seemed like forever, baring himself to her, speaking to her without words, before they both closed their eyes and waited for their first moments of pure sensation, an introduction to this new turn in their lives.

Opening her mouth, Teresa's lips parted to receive his kiss. She jumped tentative and questioning straight to full acceptance and an invitation, pulling him willingly with her. He seated his soft upper lip against her teeth and took her lower one. It was a sign for her, a silent acceptance of where she wanted to go. It was, yes, I want to go there, too. Then his mouth was fully on hers, only moments before they let go, a hint of fire and no more, here.

When he looked in her eyes he saw clarity. No hesitation. No doubt. Patrick hoped she saw the same somewhere inside his smoldering soul. She deserved everything he had, especially smolder. When their lips parted, he relived her descent from the hotel staircase, smiling just for him like she did now. The vision of how she filled and elevated the hot coral pink gown he had chosen for her was imprinted on him. It greeted him at the door of her huge wing in his memory palace.

The TSA officer was shouting and banging the window for them to stop. They smiled knowingly at each other as Patrick eased himself into his chair, sparing his injured ankle any weight.

"Has that ankle been looked at, Jane? By medical personnel, I mean?"

"No. I'm just doing what I can. But it needs an ice pack. Nothing is broken. There'd be a lot more swelling."

"We can see to it in a bit. I'll look at it and if you need to go to emergency, you will."

His grin was loopy, fully open and savoring her message of care and command.

She grinned back at him and laughed a little. Come to think of it, she had smiled and laughed for most of her time in this room. "Stop grinning like an idiot." She tried to look serious but couldn't manage while he gazed at her like that. It made her feel warm, and bubbly. She relaxed into the small smile that persisted on her lips. "When do they let you go?"

"Abbott's working on it."

"You're exhausted."

"Not anymore. What about you? You've been up all night, too."

"I feel surprisingly well." She gave him a sultry wink.

So many things he wanted to ask Teresa. What she wanted in their relationship, did she have ideas for their future, was she on fire to make love as he was. Now that his last barrier was down, it felt surprisingly easy to think about his future with her. "Can we talk about . . . things . . . when I get out of here?"

"I think we should take a few days for that, don't you? No old business now. Just new."

Her sudden bright flush telegraphed to Jane what had her attention for the immediate future and he blushed in response. "Yes. Days. At least. I think I'm still checked in at the Blue Bird . . . "

"I extended our stay . . . uh, one room." She glanced shyly away, the pink in her cheeks rising further. "I had my luggage sent to the room. Their valet service will unpack our clothes. Everything should be ready for us." She picked up her phone, looking into his adoring eyes, and alerted the concierge to have an ice pack delivered to the room when they returned.

Smiling, he tilted his head and gave her a playful ironic look. "Controlling my life a little bit. I like it."

"Oh, hush." She dipped her head, a little surprised at her own cheek and his pleasure in it. She flicked her eyes to his. "I hope you don't mind. We need some time alone in a comfortable place."

"Yes, we do." The loopy grin was back. He was hard for her and so grateful to enjoy it, not have to biofeedback it away. The thought of making love to her made the air feel thick and warm, as if it would buoy their entwined bodies. A surge of desire made his spine curl and his head jerk back, pushing a sharp groan from his throat.

Lisbon saw the look of ecstasy on his face as Patrick's head rolled back. He was damp with heat when he peered at her again and she twisted in her seat to readjust her legs, hoping to ease the pulsing beat in the excited knot between her legs. The look they shared had a common goal.

Abbott was talking with the TSA officer behind the observation window, watching his two employees on the other side. Those two were putting out so much heat, he expected the window to fog at any moment. He was too modest to want to see what would happen then. He moved to the door, checking through the window to be sure they weren't at each other on the table in the few steps he'd taken from the office to the door. No. Still just dousing each other with gasoline looks. He jiggled the handle excessively, opened the door and coughed a couple times to announce himself.

"Agent Lisbon. Jane. You're free to go. No charges, Jane. You owe me."

Jane offered his hand and Abbott shook it warmly, unable to resist laying a hand briefly on Jane's shoulder.

Lisbon collected her things and stood, mouthing a thank you to Abbott. He nodded slightly and looked at Jane who struggled to stand.

He slowly put weight on his injured ankle, winced a little and then smiled. "Not too bad."

"I trust you'll get the medical attention you need . . . " Abbott barely concealed a smirk.

Jane and Lisbon glanced furtively at each other.

"Yes. I think we've got that covered," Jane said without looking at his boss.

"There's a cab waiting. You need help getting there."

Lisbon held out her things to Abbott. "Would you . . . ?"

He took them and stepped away so that Lisbon could slip under Jane's arm, a tender crutch. Somehow it seemed right for the moment.

Resting his arm on her shoulder, Jane kissed Lisbon's temple and walked through the door Abbott was holding open for them.

"Thanks, Dennis. For everything."

"No problem, Jane. Take a few days. I expect you both to come back focused." He smiled. "And a lot happier."

"We will," they said quietly together.

"And, Jane?"

"Hmmm?" He rotated his head to look at the man walking to the side, just behind him.

"The bills on the connected suite? They're yours. Oh. And I signed dinner to your room."

"Ah, Yes. Of course." He gave Abbott a wide smile. "Gladly."

After a brief quibble, Teresa had Patrick wheeled to the room in a chair, her overnight in his lap while she carried her purse. "It's a long walk to the room with you leaning on me, Jane. I'm strong but you don't want to wear me out before we get to the room." She squeezed his fingers, resting on the arm of the chair.

His grousing had not intimidated her and he finally acquiesced. Her hand on his dampened any urge to argue. Then he voiced the real concern. "This doesn't seem very gallant for . . . " He let his words trail away since they were not alone.

Teresa bent to his ear and whispered, "Oh, you think you need to look more studworthy?"

He gave a soft huff at her intimacy. "Something like that, yes."

"I'm a stud, too. I can handle what needs to be handled."

His eyes glazed over and he turned his head to speak, her face near his as they shared the exquisite verbal foreplay. Lisbon was packing heat. "Careful, Teresa. I'm in this chair at your insistence. But I'm not paralyzed and not nearly as shy in front of company as you."

She chuckled slyly. "Are you saying, 'Don't make me get out of this chair?'"

"If I do, neither one of us will be worrying about my ankle."

Circumstance let them each back down as their escort keyed the lock and held the door open for them to enter. A slash of glowing coral pink caught his eye from the open closet, his angry little princess's silk gown from last night. There were the white and the green dresses, next to it. A small rush of impatience made him want to bolt the wheelchair and take charge. He would be glad to tip the bellhop and watch him exit.

While the man settled their belongings, Jane mused over what had just taken place between Lisbon and him. He marveled at the character of their banter. In most ways it was no different than the barbs and teases they had always pelted each other with . . . in the 'good' days. The content was quite different and the suggestive tone was annihilating arousal. At bottom, it was what they had always done, but now it carried them into a new dimension of their lives. It relaxed him, freeing him from concerns that might undermine his confidence in their blossoming relationship.

Teresa picked up where they had left off. "If it's me you're worrying about, I rather like the idea of you somewhat helpless on your back."

"Going all authoritarian on me, so soon?"

"Oh. You think your ankle will hold up to all the . . . force . . . that will be required of it?"

His grin turned sheepish as he looked into her eyes, his ears going red. "Maybe not all of it."

"Maybe not even a lot."

The easy negotiations for their first sexual encounters fired Jane's libido mercilessly. Teresa knew how much he enjoyed her authoritarian scoldings and she had become a hell of a poker player.

She lifted the bag from his lap, noting the change in his trousers, her first impulse to cup him with her hand and use her fingers to make him swell more. She bent to kiss his ear. "Why don't you get on the bed and I'll get your ice pack from the mini-fridge."

He stood and she let him balance on her shoulder until he sat on the mattress and settled on the pillow with a sigh. Lisbon got the ice pack, sat at his feet and removed his shoes and socks, being extra careful with the injured ankle. She brought pillows from the couch and arranged them so that his ankle was comfortably raised. There was much hissing and wincing as she handled him as delicately as possible, determining where best to put the ice.

"Hush! I'm being as careful as I can. The swelling's not that bad."

"But the pain is, Nurse. Maybe you should kiss it better."

"There! That's around the worst part." She held a couple toes and jiggled them lightly. "Do you have a clean shirt? I don't want to hold it in place with a towel. Too bulky."

"Yes, Nurse. There's a small selection of bandages hanging in the closet somewhere. You probably can't see them since your clothes take up most of the space."

Lisbon laughed out loud. "Oh my god. The closet space argument."

She used a shirt to bind the ice pack, then allowed her eyes to travel the length of his body, her lust rising as heat inside her. It was him. The love of the life. Her Jane. Her Patrick, whom she had loved forever and almost lost. His golden curls were tossed in every direction on his big head. When she looked at his face, she saw his beautiful sea-green eyes calmly taking her in. Watching her watching him. She wanted to fall into his arms, but she had missed his playful banter so much, she didn't want things to turn so serious so fast.

"So you want to play Nurse, do you? Well that looks pretty painful to me." She eyed the prominent bulge between his legs. He looked big. She was small. She felt the interior of her core beg her to let it stretch.

When she looked at him so openly, with such warm curiosity, a surge of lust urged him to rip his pants open and expose himself to whatever she wished to do. "Maybe you should examine it."

"In time. I think extensive massage is in order. Limping and an injury like that set up all sorts of tensions in the body."

Jane stared at her. He wasn't really sure he could finish what he had started. 'Nurse' was sounding a bit strenuous. He wanted something more tender, romantic. And he wanted to touch her everywhere, kiss everything.

She must have understood him (Why wouldn't she after all this time?), because she soothed, "Don't worry. Everything is perfect." And she started on his buttons.

When she had his shirt open, she didn't try to remove it or his jacket. Instead she slipped her hands under them, smoothing his silky skin, then digging her strong little fingers into the sleek swaths of muscle she found.

The way she bit her lower lip as she looked at the places she touched reminded him of their first meeting when he came in from exile. He should have kissed her then. It was what she had showed him she wanted. He shouldn't have held back.

She was getting to know his body this way. He loved her adaptability, giving him what he needed, so sensuously. She made his muscles ache until the exact moment she churned them into insensate butter.

When his shoulders were limp, she helped him out of his upper clothing and let it fall neatly to the carpet near the bed. Pausing, she looked at his broad chest, the various marks and scars, the rings of soft hair around the aureolae. That's when Teresa started kissing him, a long sensuous draw on his lips, his wide hands lifting to cover her back, pulling her closer. The cushion of her bosom pressing and brushing his chest with the rocking movement as she kissed him nearly maddened him.

"Nurse, I think you're overdressed. It's getting too hot in here for all those clothes."

"I think you're right. Will you take them off, Patrick?"

His entire body flooded with pleasure. He loved hearing his first name from her lips, but coupled with a request to undress her made him want to rip them both naked and take her like a savage. He would probably come in about ten seconds. He focused on working his hands and fingers to gently strip the clothing from the upper half of her body.

Teresa saw his eyes go dark and his breathing deepen. His expression was feral and in her own depths, she responded in kind. Bending to kiss him, the last shell of reason peeled away and she squirmed out of her clothing, wherever he gripped to take it off. Air intake limited to her nose, her chest heaved as it strove for more until finally she had to turn loose of him, leaving them both gasping and moaning.

"My bra!" It was all of a request she could manage without oxygen, but he understood and pulled her close so he could unfasten her at the back.

When he freed her breasts, he almost cried at their beauty. They were perfect and round and in womanly proportion to her size. She rubbed the nipples softly on his chest and he watched them stiffen and stand. Things started feeling buzzy and fuzzy and he realized he had been holding his breath in awe, almost passing out. His next great gasping breaths made him nearly as dizzy. It was her. His Teresa. Naked and rubbing her gorgeous breasts on him for her own pleasure and for his. He had loved her for so long, it was functionally forever.

Pulling her closer, he held her ribs to kiss the tender mounds in front of him as she sighed and threw her head back. He savored her nipples, sucking them in with soft kisses, letting them fall in and out of his mouth but never to drop from his lips until he was ready for the next one. Passion drove him on, seeing Teresa heavily aroused, a delicate pink flush spreading down her neck and chest.

Head still thrown back, the tips of her hair tickled her hips, and she began to undulate, pressing herself against the stiff bulk of Patrick's erection, pulling her breasts away from his mouth.

"Teresa!"

He sounded desperate. When she looked at him, he bumped his hips up.

"Sorry. I got distracted from your massage." The primitive rhythm that drove her to ride any flesh that Patrick offered held her deep in its grasp. She wanted to follow it, but it was too soon.

"It can wait until later." He bumped her again but she moved to sit further down his legs to bend to his chest.

When he tried to follow her as she lowered her head she pressed his chest and made him fall back to the pillow. Her warm tongue circled his nipples, traced where she would nip or suck his skin. She worked the long muscles of his arms, then delicately to his hands and fingers, using her mouth where she wanted to taste.

It was time for the ice pack to come off. She got off him briefly to remove it.

"Take your pants off, Teresa." His voice was husky with need.

She did as he asked, revealing comfortable cotton panties for traveling in.

"Those, too."

He sat up to watch her. Threads of slick reflected in the light as she pulled her panties away. She picked up her own scent just before he did. "I'm strong."

"I'm stronger. I want my mouth there." He looked from her eyes to her wet core.

When she nodded quietly, he helped her to the top of the bed, laid her gently on a pillow and kissed her. Everywhere his mouth touched, he told her how beautiful she was, how luscious she felt under his hands and lips. Her movements grew restless before he reached his destination.

His mouth was fire, burning her as it traced her skin. How had she lived without it, coaxing her beyond sensation into this altered state where she floated and burned like a chunk of the Holy Spirit?

Patrick was hypnotized by the irresistible flare of her hips, distracting him as he tongued places on her belly and kissed her hipbones. Then he invaded her, snuffling as he nosed and kissed and tasted her everywhere, rooting in pleasure as he felt himself soar free. Soon she lifted her hips and he splayed his hands to support her bottom as she pushed into his mouth. He scraped his front teeth gently on the knot of her clitoris. She yelled and grabbed his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he obliged her need. Then he stopped, taking a lick at her clit. Then one more. And another. Teasing her with microseconds until she burst into orgasm, repeating his name with desperate force.

Scrabbling to remove the rest of his clothing, Patrick was soon naked, his cock in extremis and dripping. Teresa put a hand on him, feeling his size and hardness. Her legs were already limply open, but she bent her knees, holding her legs wider.

"Patrick." It was a whisper. Everything was desire and completion.

"Yes, I'm here." His voice was a low croon, soothing her as he stroked the length of her body.

He bridged over her and started a passionate kiss as he entered her. Snaps of electrical energy seemed to be shutting down his mind as he stopped kissing her so that she could pant and breathe.

"Teresa."

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He watched their green lights go dark and deep as he began to move in her, close briefly as he reached the soft, hot bottom of her rippling core. Then something kindled and Teresa captured his gaze with a carnal gleam. She met his moves and his rhythm, circling her hips and swallowing him at the same time. She saw the moment his orgasm struck as he gasped, held his breath, and went rigid for a few moments. His surrender and imminent release charged up her spine and she continued to move her hips, coaxing him over the edge, a strangled cry in his throat that echoed with every spasm of his hips as he filled her with jet after jet of warmth. The thought of it, the feeling brought her another climax and she softly rode his still-hard flesh to completion.

When they awoke after a brief nap, both were beyond hunger. They ordered in and attacked the meal ravenously. Then, as they began to feel sated, they played with their food by attacking each other's mouths and stealing it. Their play didn't last long as their too-quickly filled bellies gave them the hiccups and they laughed at each other instead. Whatever concern they had for grace and studliness was lost in their subsequent belching contest, which Patrick won.

Endlessly inventive and trusting, it fueled passionate adventures with one another. They took each other in the shower.

They shared a sublime session on the ottoman, Patrick straddling her, seated deep inside as he anchored her shoulders in his wide hands and nimble fingers while she grasped his arms. She said later she'd never had so many orgasms at one time.

He sensitized her backside by playing and kissing so long there that she let him, desperately wanted him to carefully enter that virgin place. His movement there made even her scalp tingle. He was gentle, easy, taking his time even in his extreme pleasure and excitement. It was her trust that undid him. An overwhelming orgasm struck and thrashed her completely, leaving her trembling. She felt lost, her emotions broken open as his fingers pressed the top of her shoulders, holding her in place to slide deeper and finally rock them both with his own spasms when he came. Tossed into a sea of mingled feelings, she cried for him and he was there with comfort.

They made love on the big snuggly couch, pretending they were at the old CBI and living out fantasy after fantasy alternating the setting from his couch in the bullpen to the white one he had bought for her office. Each admitted remembering old fantasies and sharing a new one as they sat on his couch under the window next to her desk now at the FBI, the day she told him she loved his couch. They made love as they had really wanted to that day.

They went down to dinner the second night, Teresa wearing her beautiful gown. Patrick rarely let his eyes wander from her, dazzled by the color against her skin, her eyes, her hair, listening to its rustle when she moved. His rapt attention made her blush at first, then she simply glowed with pleasure. So many soft kisses to her shoulders and collarbone, some of them warm and wet, had her panting before their main course, capturing his lips, brushing hers on his neck and ear. After, he fondled the fabric as he cosseted her with kisses and touch where she stood, lavishing multitudes of soft, moist kisses on her breasts where the cleavage swelled round and full from the bodice. Reluctant to remove their sensuous covering, he wanted instead to push up her skirt. He longed to take her with all that silk against his naked body but Teresa's need to be skin-to-skin free with him finally drove him to undress her. Neither regretted it.

At last they slept the second night. And on the third day they went shopping. Lisbon bought Jane three delicious new suits, six shirts and ten pairs of socks. Aware of his attachment to the socks she had given him from Cannon River, she threatened that if he put all his new clothes on the bed and rolled in them, she would kick his ass. He grinned at her and felt so understood.

They sat together on the plane home that night, Jane's arm around Lisbon's shoulder, kissing each other's heads and cheeks on occasion. So many plans were yet to be made, but they would never, by choice, spend another night apart again.


End file.
